


Sunflowers

by KannaOphelia



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Aziraphale and Crowley in Love (Good Omens), Aziraphale doing Crowley's job, Banned Together Bingo, Crowley Has a Praise Kink (Good Omens), Cuddle-pollen, Everything is consensual, First Time, Happy Ending, Love Confessions, M/M, One-Shot, Only in an angelic way, Post-Almost Apocalypse (Good Omens), Strong Sexual References, The Arrangement (Good Omens), Touch-Starved Crowley (Good Omens), Written for a Challenge, a dash of angst, ineffable husbands, lots and lots of cuddling, sappy smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:53:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24608020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KannaOphelia/pseuds/KannaOphelia
Summary: Aziraphale sent a silent prayer of gratitude that Crowley was sound asleep and far away. He sighed and headed into his backroom.Crowley unfolded himself from the couch like an unwinding slinky. "Was wondering when you'd get back. Occurred to me we haven't done the Seven Dials for a bit and I fancy—ngk." His breath abruptly ran out as Aziraphale clutched him to his chest. "Ah. Er. Hi?"----In which Aziraphale thinks it's safe to carry out a sex-pollen temptation as long as he modifies the pollen to only bring out existingtenderfeelings.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 69
Kudos: 580
Collections: An Angel and a Demon Walked into a Bookshop: Ineffable Husbands Stories, Hot Omens, The Sticky Stigma





	Sunflowers

**Author's Note:**

> Created for the Sex Pollen challenge on the Good Omens Event Server. Only this one is cuddle-pollen, even though it leads to certain places, and all consensual.
> 
> Sunflowers represent longevity, adoration and pure love.

"So, Heaven been in contact yet?"

Crowley's voice was so elaborately casual that it raised the hackles on the back of Aziraphale's neck. He twisted the telephone cord in his fingers, wishing he could see Crowley's face and judge the level of anxiety in the press of his lips, the lines on his forehead.

"No. I rather think they will ignore me for a while. Why?"

"Memo from Hell."

Aziraphale sat down hard and suddenly, clutching the receiver to the side of his face so hard it hurt. "Crowley, if—"

"Nah, s'fine, angel. Word from the bottom, business as usual for now. Only Beezlebub refuses to supervise me, and Ligur won't be on a team with me."

"Wait. Ligur. The one you were on trial for murdering?"

"Murdering is a strong word, angel. Anyway, he got better. Must've been Adam setting things to rights. Or wrongs."

"Do you think he, ah, got better before or after you were sentenced to extinction?"

"Before, most likely."

"That's hardly fair."

"It's Hell, Aziraphale. Anyway, looks like I'm on Asmodeus's team. Gambling and lust temptations."

"Well, you should have an easy job of it in those trousers."

It slipped out without thinking, and in the long seconds without a response, Aziraphale imagined a thousand scornful or, worse, kind replies Crowley could make. But when Crowley spoke, his voice was simply amused.

"Fortunately I won't be sleeping with the humans myself. Counts more as a sin if you point them at each other than if I use my unfair advantages. Well, I can't imagine I'll be bothered for a while, so I'm taking a nap for a few weeks. Think I've earned it." There was a pause. "Wake me if you need anything. The door knows to let you in." A longer pause. "Anything at all."

Aziraphale closed his eyes, let the weight of thousands of years of unsaid things crush him for a moment. Well, it would be all right. They had time, now, to take things slowly, and perhaps one day...

"Sleep well, dear boy."

"G'night, angel."

Surely Aziraphale wasn't imagining it. There could be nothing less demonic than Crowley's inflection, which brought to mind comparisons like 'dawn's tender first light' and 'unfurling buds'. Aziraphale opened his mouth to say something, he wasn't sure what, but Crowley had already rung off.

They had time, he reminded himself. All the time in the new world.

* * *

Crowley seemed determined to spend all the time they had left napping.

Not that Aziraphale fretted. He attended promising estate sales in which he haggled with the ruthlessness of an angel determined to thwart human greed, he started tidying the shop and gave up after fifteen minutes when he stumbled on a fascinating book about the use of caterpillars in ancient medicine, he researched the most wholesome snacks for ducks, he attended opera without a demon at his side whingeing about the boring bits.

Eventually, he went to Mayfair. Just to check that Crowley was all right, that was all. Not because he missed Crowley outrageously or anything. A few weeks were nothing in the general scheme of things, for immortals.

He felt his mouth twitch up at the ridiculous snake doorhandle and pressed it lightly. It yielded to his touch.

There was a pile of paper like a snowdrift inside the door. Crowley had apparently signed up to every newsletter and rewards card in existence, as well as catalogues selling meerkat statues and handy kitchen gadgets. Crowley took pride in his work. He had once shown Aziraphale his spam, which had sounded like a fairly alarming proposition. It turned out to be a folder on his computer with over a million messages, mostly about enhancing certain portions of the anatomy and messages from kind, worried people looking for people to help them find a home for excess funds. Some of them, Crowley had said proudly, carried viruses. Aziraphale shot a worried look at the envelopes and brochures on the floor, but not of them seem likely to carry any diseases.

Except one. It was a bright red envelope with neon pink hearts all over it and a seal in gold, in the shape of a cock's foot. Aziraphale cautiously picked it up. It smelled of heavy animalic perfume, jasmine, and the stench of sulphur.

Oh dear.

He stepped over the rest of the mail and went to find Crowley. He wasn't that hard to find, given the ridiculous glass doors closing off his bedroom. Aziraphale had stood by them all night, watching over Crowley from outside, the night after Satan had arrived on Earth. Taking comfort in being able to see him, still alive, still there.

He looked so young and so ancient all at once when he slept. The lines on his face relaxed, drooling slightly in the pillow. Curved protectively around himself. Aziraphale stood, and watched for a few minutes, and left, envelope still in hand.

No one had said the Arrangement was off. And it was in the spirit of the Arrangement to let the poor exhausted boy sleep. He'd had a difficult eleven years.

Back in the sanctuary of the bookshop, Aziraphale slit open the envelope with his favourite eighteenth-century silver letter opener. Out slipped a letter and a tiny sachet of some glittering substance. Interesting. Aziraphale prodded the sachet warily and then perused the letter. _Sex pollen._ Intended to lower inhibitions and lead humans to act on their true feelings. There was helpful advice to look at situations to provoke maximum amount of adultery, scandal and chaos.

No, no, that wouldn't do at all. Aziraphale had no intention of sending humans into situations that could lead to all kinds of nasty stuff.

But with some slight modification...

Yes, yes, that was possible. It could easily be written up as causing chaos. Crowley could sleep in peace, and Aziraphale could take care of it.

* * *

A few minutes later, Aziraphale headed onto the streets, bearing a bouquet of sunflowers. Glittery gold pollen dusted the petals. He gazed down the street, looking for opportunities. He didn't want to cause any difficult situations Just spread love, light and demonic chaos. If he was right, all the pollen would do now is bring the most tender true feelings and need for human contact in people's hearts out.

A man was struggling to get a toddler back into his pushchair. "Get _in_ there, you little shit, or I'll give you a good smack."

No, no, that wouldn't do at all. Aziraphale strode across and beamed at him. "Can I help, dear?"

"Piss off, you fat ponce."

Aziraphale gently shook his flowers. The man looked as if he'd been the one to be shaken. His blue eyes melted into tears, and he turned to the child in the stroller and clutched him tight. "Sorry, Harry. Daddy's been having a bad day. Shouldn't take it out on you. I love you, sweetie."

The child stopped kicking and screaming, and cooed "Cuddle!"

Aziraphale tripped lightly down the road. That was easy. That was wonderful. That would probably be hard for Crowley to write up as demonic, but he had faith in Crowley's ability to bluff his way through anything. It was going to be a good day.

An hour later, Aziraphale was floating on air. He had encouraged dating couples to take their first embrace, solved quarrels, and the number of parents cuddling with their kids was almost out of control. He was in his element, spreading love and joy—and chaos and lust, he told himself sternly. Doing Asmodeus's work. At least some of those humans would end up in bed together.

It all went wrong when he decided to step on a bus, and shake all the remaining pollen over the bottom deck. The bus took off without warning and Aziraphale lost his balance, burying his head in his sunflowers and inhaling a bus's worth of cuddle pollen.

Right, he told himself. No need to panic. He already loved humanity and managed to get through his days without any overwhelming need to embrace them all on sight. He was a creature of love already. This demonic substance would make no difference to how much he loved humanity, loved them, loved them...

"Want my seat, love?" asked a young woman.

"Yes, yes, I do! You wonderful, kind woman! And your eyes are very pretty!" Aziraphale flung his arms around her in an excess of gratitude. Then he turned and hugged the man next to her. "I love you, too. I love all of you."

"Right, mate. I don't know what you're on, but you're getting off here," snarled the bus driver.

Aziraphale blinked tears back, overcome with emotion. "Oh! You think I'm harassing her! And you're protecting her. You're so kind, so chivalrous. Let me hug you."

"Need a hand, Izad?" asked a young man, getting up and making his way between them. Aziraphale hugged him instead.

"So lovely of you to come to your friend's rescue."

Technically, Aziraphale had enough strength to overwhelm both men, but there was no way he was going to risk harming such precious humans. He allowed himself to be herded off, murmuring words of forgiveness and appreciation at them.

Being returned to fresh, cold air cleared his head for a moment, but he could feel the sticky sweet warmth of the pollen still flooding his lungs. Right. So the pollen not only affected ethereal creatures, it affected them more strongly. He clicked his fingers. Nothing. He still felt suffused with almost unbearable love. Of course, the pollen was, however, he had modified it, Hellish. There was no reason he should be able to get rid of it with angelic powers.

Aziraphale had to get home before something even more mortifying happened. He might even get arrested, which would be awkward if he kept trying to embrace the police officers.

He wasn't far from home, and he did hug every person waiting at the next bus stop, but otherwise, he made it without harm. Well, if getting a disgusting, sticky half-sucked lollipop stuck to his coat when he hugged a particularly adhesive small child didn't count. Aziraphale used a small miracle to fix it and focused heart and soul on the project of getting these devilish sunflowers home, placing foot after foot. He could do it.

Finally, he stepped inside his bookshop and shut the door behind him with a sigh of relief. Thank—not Heaven, but Someplace. He snapped his fingers, and the sunflowers flashed into destruction, taking any remaining pollen with them. Right. All he had to do was stay alone and wait for the pollen to wear off, and not risk opening his shop, or he'd start giving his books away to his dear, dear customers.

And not ring Crowley. Heaven knows what he would find himself saying. Aziraphale sent a silent prayer of gratitude that Crowley was sound asleep and far away. He sighed and headed into his backroom.

Crowley unfolded himself from the couch like an unwinding slinky, eyes bared, casual and comfortable. "Was wondering when you'd get back. Occurred to me we haven't done the Seven Dials for a bit and I fancy— _ngk_." His breath abruptly ran out as Aziraphale clutched him to his chest. "Ah. Er. Hi?"

Aziraphale opened his mouth to apologise and explain. "You feel so good in my arms, Crowley. I've wanted to hold you so often." That wasn't at all what he had meant to say.

"Nggh. Yeah. This is nice."

Crowley's arms came awkwardly back around him, and Aziraphale felt an awkward patting on his back. The dear, dear thing. He obviously had no idea at all how to cuddle properly. Poor prickly demon, always staving off affection. Aziraphale felt a rush of tenderness at the thought. "This is more than nice," he said earnestly, and the truth of it ebbed around him. How had he ever thought this was hard to do? The joy of love was all around him.

Crowley gave a sound between a moan and a sob and buried his face in Aziraphale's shoulder. "Yeah." His arms curved more naturally around Aziraphale's back now, as he settled in. Crowley had always been a fast learner. "Yeah."

Right, Aziraphale thought. He needed to explain. He didn't regret breaching the distance between them. But Crowley needed to know that he was under the influence of the pollen, and possibly he was carrying some on his clothes. Then he could perhaps find the courage to say it again while neither of them were under the influences of—of—

Influences of what? He couldn't remember. He felt drenched in a light like honey. Crowley was so _narrow_ , so bony and strong and delicate all at once, and he smelled of burned rubber and hot stone and spices, and he fit so perfectly into his arms, and Aziraphale loved him, loved him so much. The demon's heart was fluttering against his ribcage like a butterfly, and Aziraphale wanted to soothe it, wrap him up in affection and protect him. He let his fingertips massage the base of Crowley's spine, digging in.

Crowley yelped. "Angel, my knees are shaking. Could we sit down?"

Aziraphale herded him to the couch and tenderly laid him down on it, managing not to let go. Aziraphale ended up half on and half off the couch, knees on the floor and half-draped over Crowley, arms still clutched around his waist, chest bearing down on his thin one.

"Am I crushing you too much?" Aziraphale managed to ask.

"Nah. Perfect."

"This is nice? Being cuddled like this?"

"Course not, I'm a demon, I don't cuddle—don't you _dare_ let go." Aziraphale's attempt to move away was foiled by Crowley flinging arms around his shoulders and clung desperately. "Don't let go. Don't ever let go." His lips moved over Aziraphale's face, leaving a trail of kisses like slightly damp fire, which was a confusing thought.

"You beautiful thing," Aziraphale said incoherently. "I'll never let you go. You beautiful, clever, ridiculous, good, wonderful, incredible, marvellous..."

Crowley whined deep in his throat. "'M not good, not—"

"You are everything to me, you mad, loyal, brave, _good_ —"

Crowley gulped down breath. "Fuck, angel, you need to tone it down, or I will do something you might not forgive."

"I could forgive you anything. My darling dear."

The whining was even more frantic, and the sound reverberated through Aziraphale's bones, made them sing. "Tell me it's all right to want you then, tell me... oh, fuck, angel."

"Of course it is. You're perfect."

"Oh, _shit._ " Crowley's hips lifted off the couch and gave a series of shuddering jerks against the air as he screwed his face up, tears rolling down it, and he gave a wordless shout. Aziraphale watched his face in wonder, then looked down in shock at the spreading wetness at Crowley's crotch. "Shit, angel, oh, shit, I'm sorry."

"You amazing darling," said Aziraphale, and Crowley buried his head in the angel's chest.

"Always imagined I'd at least manage to kiss you before coming," he muttered. "Pathetic."

" _Beautiful_ ," Aziraphale insisted, aching with love. He could feel tears wetting his chest, and the tenderness was so strong it hurt, and desire, too, coiled and hot in his stomach, the sight of Crowley arching and helpless with pleasure, coming untouched, for him... "Oh, my darling."

"Can-can I kiss you now?"

"Of course, "Aziraphale said, feeling like his heart was exploding, and then there were hungry adoring lips on his, the touch of a tongue. Aziraphale opened his mouth a little, welcoming him in, drinking him in. "I've always wanted to kiss you," he said, as their lips parted. "Always."

"Always," Crowley echoed and kissed him again. "Kiss me forever, you can, I—do you want me to suck you off? Or would you like to fuck me?" Aziraphale felt the muscles in his shoulders tense up and there was fear somehow, a sense of wrongness. There was _too much love_ , it was almost unbearable, he was falling apart, and... the pollen.

"You don't have to do anything you don't want." The words were thick in his mouth.

Crowley's hands were soothing on his shoulders, massaging. Such affection. "'Course I want to. You have no idea how much I want it. How long I've thought about it."

Aziraphale's body surged with desire at the thought, and it was an effort to control himself. "I don't think that would be a very good idea."

Crowley's face was so close to Aziraphale's that he could see the crumbling at the rejection before the abrupt hardening. Crowley parted his lips, and before the demon could say something that would cut and leave them both bleeding, Aziraphale rushed to say, "I don't want to stop holding you." Still the pollen, he thought dimly. Making truths easy to say. He could say one more truth, perhaps, before it wore off. "I love you."

" _Shit_ , Aziraphale. Yeah. You too. I mean, me too." Crowley kissed his jaw. "Hand, then? I don't mind if you make a mess of me. Actually, yeah, I would like that a lot. But we don't have to do anything you don't want."

Aziraphale shivered. "Crowley. Listen. This is important. I have loved you _always_. Since before I can remember. Not only now."

Crowley looked up at him, bewildered. "What do you mean, not only now?"

"You're going to hate me."

"Angel, I couldn't. Never could. Not since I saw you talking to Eve and—do you know you have crinkly eyes? Just came up from the dark, and there you were, in the sunlight, having crinkly eyes at me. Didn't stand a snowflake's chance."

It hurt. The guilt hurt most of all. "Crowley, can you tell if I'm still under a demonic spell? I can't tell."

The whites of Crowley's eyes vanished. " _What_? What have they done to you? I'll ssskin them."

"I did it to myself. Crowley, please check." The golden feeling of love was still around him, soaking through his veins.

Crowley sniffed, flickered his tongue out, tasted the air. "Nothing. I can't sense anything. Angel, what aren't you telling me? Spit it out."

Aziraphale did, stumblingly. Eyes closed, cheeks flaming. Crowley's grip on him loosened a bit, and he felt every slight degree of relaxation like a blow.

"Cuddle-pollen. You made cuddle-pollen. Oh, Aziraphale." Crowley was shaking with laughter, but it seemed slightly hysterical. "That would be hilarious if I hadn't just humiliated myself over a cuddle."

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Oh, you have nothing to be sorry for. It's not your fault I am so miserably gone on you I got off on a _hug._ I was just stupid to think the things you were saying were real."

"They were. That's what I'm trying to tell you. I've always loved you. The pollen only makes people say their truths. And I'm sorry, I took advantage."

"By holding me and saying nice things? Angel. I'm the one, you were just being kind. You weren't even in your right mind, and when this wears off you will be disgusted with me. I've been careful so bloody long and I ruined everything. Shooting off like a human teenager at a hint of contact. And now you know how vile I am."

"It was beautiful," Aziraphale said stubbornly. "You're beautiful."

"Angel, you don't mean that."

"I do. Crowley, you have to understand. The pollen only drags up real feelings of love."

"Like you loved everyone on that bloody bus."

"Not the same way. Not for six thousand years. They are humans. I love them, but not _individually_."

There was something like hope dawning on that expressive face. They were still clamped in each other's arms. Crowley unwrapped his arm and snapped his fingers, cleaning himself up. "It should wear off by morning."

Aziraphale felt fear thudding through him. Crowley seemed confident _he_ wasn't affected by the pollen, but surely demons were not that naturally, well, cuddly.

"Knock that look off," Crowley warned. "Look, angel. Not to rake up the embarrassing past, but seeing the way I responded to you, you don't have to worry about my feelings, okay?" He hesitated. "Angel? Stay with me?"

"As long as you like."

The couch was, literally miraculously, big enough to settle on together. "I'm going to sleep in your arms if it's the only time in my life," Crowley muttered defensively, settling his head on Aziraphale's shoulder and his arm cast over his belly, legs tangled together.

Aziraphale stroked his back and petted him to sleep. He didn't often sleep himself, only when it was necessary to pass as human, and his heart and mind were too full to sleep now. Crowley was curled into him as if he was the one source of warmth in the world, and the afternoon floated on and changed to night, and then to dawn, as his brain slowly cleared. He rubbed Crowley's back, scritched his fingers into the nape of his neck, and Crowley made happy little hissing noises in his sleep. _Adorable snake._ He didn't need cuddle-pollen to think that.

The pollen-glow faded, and the love carried on. Steady as a heartbeat. He had thought, at certain times, that he already loved Crowley as much as it was possible for an angel to love anyone. Moments in history. Watching Crowley secretly dash away tears when two of the first three human babies had turned to killing each other over their sister. Watching Crowley bathing with children in Egypt, laughing, forgetting that he was a demon and was supposed to torment and tempt, just enjoying the water and company, as water sparkled off his shoulders and hips. Turning up with deliberate casualness when Aziraphale was in danger. Fighting to control his irrepressible smirk every time he was praised, and failing. All the times Crowley had saved him, been there for him. Crowley glowing at him in candlelight, finally relaxed and open and _fond_.

None of those feelings were anything compared to how he felt knowing now how much Crowley needed him, needed his praise and affection, how starved he was for Azirphale's love. Needed. Aziraphale had loved humanity because he thought they needed him, but they didn't need him anymore, not the way this bony demon-creature needed him. Aziraphale had always secretly thought it was the other way around, that he needed Crowley.

Well. He did. It was just more mutual than he had thought.

Eventually, Crowley stirred and pushed himself up. Yellow eyes looked questioningly down at Aziraphale.

"All clear?"

"Yes, I think so."

"And?"

Aziraphale smiled at him, trying to be nervous at all. Crowley had literally... he had... Aziraphale blushed at the memory. He had no space himself to be embarrassed. "I love you with all my heart and soul and I'm glad I told you so at last."

"My _angel_ ," said Crowley, and everything else was lost in a kiss.

"You exquisite thing," Aziraphale murmured, carding his fingers through soft auburn hair. "I can't believe you wanted me so much and were still so kind, so loyal, so considerate and patient..."

"Shit, angel, are you _trying_ to discorporate me?"

"Mmm. No. That would be inconvenient. I'm quite attached to this corporation."

"Hnnh. Like yours too." Crowley hesitated. "Love yours. Loveyouangelloveyousomuchforlaways."

"Thank you."

"Just don't expect me to go around saying it all the time."

"Wouldn't dream of it." Aziraphale slid a hand under Crowley's top, caressed the skin there, feeling the hard muscle, the springing texture of hair. "I regret not having seen and touched you last night. You lovely thing"

"Going to hold out a bit longer this time." Crowley started working on Aziraphale's cuffs.

"I'm counting on it, my dear," Aziraphale said. He didn't truly care, though. Crowley could keep going off at a word forever if he wanted, the wonderful, responsive demon. There would always be more touches, more praise, more cuddles, even if it took another six thousand years to fill Crowley up with love.

"Going," Crowley said firmly, "to strip you naked and kiss every lovely bit of you and fuck you senseless if it takes every miracle in my power. If—if you want that, I mean."

"Oh, yes. That sounds nice," Aziraphale said faintly.

"I'm not nice. And then I am going to _cuddle_ you. And then I'll take you for the most expensive lunch I can find. Might want to get dressed again first."

"Not nice at all, I stand corrected."

"Shut _up_." Oh, that bashful smirk. It melted him to see it. How could he not have realised that Crowley turned to praise and affection as if chasing warmth? "Oh, I love you, angel." Crowley's lips moved against the inside of Aziraphale's wrist, flickering his inhuman tongue against his pulse.

"Not that you'll say it all the time." Aziraphale was finding it difficult to speak, with the mouth on his wrist and a thin thigh shoved between his.

"Shut _up_ and let yourself be loved," Crowley growled, enforcing it with a deep kiss.

Afterwards, feeling boneless and exhausted and _warm_ , surrounded by Crowley's arms, Aziraphale thought he remembered Asmodeus. He had been a bright lad in Heaven. A lot of angels who had been caught up in the Rebellion hadn't been evil as such, just not fond of rules. Aziraphale's arms tightened around his own not-evil demon.

Asmodeus had taken on Crowley when he was hated and feared by the rest of Hell. Had taken him on knowing would Crowley and Aziraphale were on their own side. Heaven and Hell all knew that by now. And truth could be a gift. A demonic gift... but then, was Aziraphale really in a position to sneer at demonic gifts?

He closed his eyes, snuggled in closer, and thought about the paperwork.

**Author's Note:**

> This is _also_ created for the prompt "Bad Parenting" on the Banned Together Bingo 2020. I'm sure some of you are aware that it is at very least on hiatus, if not gone for good. But I think it was a great cause, and I'm aiming to blackout my card anyway. The drama around the Bingo only confirms to me that this issue was worth fighting for.


End file.
